


Sins of the Father

by bobadeluxe



Category: Cookie Run (Video Game)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Amnesia, Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Childhood Trauma, Dysfunctional Family, Father-Son Relationship, Game: Cookie Run: Kingdom, Gen, Mental Anguish, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-15
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-03-16 10:13:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29452110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bobadeluxe/pseuds/bobadeluxe
Summary: So what if it could speak? It was a magical artifact after all—a sword of legends even. It stood within reasons that the Strawberry Jam sword would possess some strange, mystical qualities unlike an ordinary sword.So why was he shaking?(Five Times The Strawberry Jam Sword talked to Dark Choco (and One Time Dark Choco talked to it.)AKA The fic where Strawberry Jam sword is Dark Cacao's sword, reforged with his own Soulstone, and it still possesses his consciousness.
Comments: 9
Kudos: 21





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'Canon-typical Violence' in this case means not much at all lmao. You know, jelly instead of blood, and bodily harm is all cookie-related. So don't worry! It never gets explicit. The only thing to worry here is that it may get fucking goofy real fast despite [or because of] the tone. I suppose I can interpret them as human, and go all grimdark, but I'm not going to. Hehe.
> 
> Note that I'm still stuck in Chapter 7 in story mode [AND ONLY 5 IN DARK MODE...] so I have no idea if any of this breaks the canon, sorry! Think of it as a fun little canon divergence AU if it does lmao.
> 
> EDIT: nvm i saw it and, surprisingly, it still works with the fic for the most parts! apart from the sword stuff which is my own bullshit, i will try my best to stay canon compliant. 
> 
> I wrote this one in English first this time ctually, instead of Thai (which is my first language.) So y'all get the premiere here on AO3.

When the Strawberry Jam sword spoke to him for the first time, Dark Choco almost missed it. He was on a battlefield; he could barely hear himself thinking. Clashing swords, collapsing buildings, and crackling of the blaze—not to mention the _screams_ —drowned everything out. His senses were failing him; his sight was blurred with smoke, the smells of burned cookies haunted him, but he could still hear. As he struck down the nearest enemy, he heard _it_. A deep, guttural voice, whose familiarity provided Dark Choco with no comfort. It only brought forth an overwhelming sense of foreboding. Fear gripped his heart in its frozen fist—now _that_ was a new sensation. Nothing had ever put him on edge quite like the voice that resonated within his blade.

_"Is this the same fate that befell my kingdom? The corruption of this land sickens me."_

Dark Choco owned it to his training that he did not let the Strawberry Jam sword slip, and fall from his grasp. He looked down at it, and saw the gem—embedded into the grip—pulsing with light after each syllable. Once it finished its sentence, it lost its brilliant glow, and returned to a muted, non-reflective, red hue once more. It said nothing else, if it ever said anything at all in the first place. 

It would not be the first time Dark Choco heard voices in his head that weren't his own, saw things that weren't there. For a brief moment, he questioned what was left of his sanity.

..No, he heard it speak. He saw it animated with life, clear as daybreak. There was no mistaking it. This was not yet another product of his imagination. He possessed enough self-awareness of his sorry state that, Dark Choco thought, he would've been able to acknowledge his delusion when it manifested. Since when was he too good to project on a sword, anyhow? At this point, he might as well.

Its voice sounded eerily familiar. Dark Choco realized then that he heard it before—from someone, somewhere, that he had forgotten—and it filled him with dread. It shouldn't have. So what if it could speak? It was a magical artifact after all—a sword of legends even. It stood within reasons that the Strawberry Jam sword would possess some strange, mystical qualities unlike an ordinary sword. Dark Choco had witnessed stranger magic than this before. Pomegranate seeds that poisoned the mind, sentient, talking mushrooms, and resurrected skeletons. He had stared into the void, and was beckoned into it. He had seen horror the likes of which no other cookie could comprehend.

So why was he shaking? He already fled the scene, leaving trails of destruction behind him for miles. He could hardly see the smoke from the horizon—so why were his eyes overflowed with tears? Dark Choco felt a bitterness inside him like nothing he ever felt before. A sadness that wasn't his own, and the poorly-repressed rage that followed shortly afterward. 

His knees gave out under him; the weight he carried on his shoulders suddenly became too much to bear. He held himself up— _barely_ —by his sword, stabbing it into the ground. Dark Choco took a deep, ragged breath, and hung his head down with shame. His hair fell around his face like a curtain, obscuring him from light. Too long _still_ , even after he cut it himself with this very sword. Too long, and permanently streaked with white, like _someone_ , somewhere. Dark Choco couldn't get rid of it. He tried.

 _"Arise, princeling,"_ It commanded him.

He stood up; a Pavlovian response.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unrelated thought, but If I have any artistic bone in my hack body, I'd draw Dark Cacao and Dark Choco like Ivan the Terrible and His Son Ivan. Wouldn't that be raw as fuck?


	2. Chapter 2

The Strawberry Jam sword didn't talk to him further for what felt like weeks. Long, tortuous weeks filled with questions Dark Choco couldn't answer. He would've chalked it up as a hallucination, just another symptom of his corrupted mind, but _that voice_ —it reverberated within him. Followed him everywhere, even in his dreams. Too distinct, and far too familiar for comfort. It happened. It was real. He didn't imagine it.

Dark Choco decided to look into it, to read up on everything he had on the legends of Strawberry Jam sword, and then traveled across the lands following every lead he found. Suffice to say, none of them led him to a conclusion. His research was unhelpful, and it did not help that he didn't remember how he discovered the Strawberry Jam sword in the first place. He remembered only darkness surrounding him when he awakened, a new cookie, forever changed. For all he knew, it could have been purely coincidental. Out of options, Dark Choco was forced to confide in Pomegranate Cookie. He preferred to keep his distance from her—and every servant of The Enchantress for that matter—but desperate times called for drastic measures. She was a powerful sorcerer, who no doubt knew about the Strawberry Jam sword more than him. At the very least, she should be able to offer him some wisdom regarding the nature of magical artifacts. 

That was, if Pomegranate was in a charitable mood. She had made her disapproval of him quite clear in the past, and Dark Choco never attempted to earn her approval either. Amongst the servants, Pomegranate was the most loyal, and the most passionate. Her entire life revolved around carrying her master's will. Devoted as she was to the cause, Dark Choco's complete and utter apathy could only read as treason. She did not trust him, which boded well for Dark Choco—he didn't trust any of them. He knew better not to.

Regardless, Dark Choco needed her favors. So he carried out her orders like a good little servant would. He made the effort to show up to their conference, and be present around the inner sanctum. If not to get on her good side, then at least to appease her for a time. It was not much, but it was a lot coming from Dark Choco, who up until this point had always remained in the shadow. Dark Choco wasn't one to suck up to his betters—he just didn't have it in him—so the best he could do with his integrity intact was to show up, and do his job right.

It seemed to work, though not by its own merits. Pomegranate was pleased to see the change in his attitude, however slight, and took it as a sign of him turning over a new leaf. She did not care much for Dark Choco personally, but she acknowledged his potential as an asset to her master's cause. Once she saw him started to take it seriously, she became more.. agreeable. Not friendly, not even polite on most days, but they interacted more, and their interactions weren't just outright hostile. One night after the debrief of their latest mission, Dark Choco brought up the subject of his sword, casual as could be.

"Ah, yes, the Strawberry Jam sword," Pomegranate muses. "A powerful artifact… May I?"

She held out her hands in front of him, and for some inexplicable reasons, Dark Choco hesitated. It was unthinkable that he would willingly part with his sword. The very thought of someone else touching it was _repulsive._ He felt ill. Part of him realized though that this was ludicrous. Dark Choco never felt _any_ emotional attachment to his sword before. At most, it felt like a curse. A forbidden weapon that should've stayed hidden, instead of shackled to his soul. So why was he feeling possessive of it out of nowhere? It meant nothing to him.

Pomegranate Cookie raised a questioning eyebrow at him. Dark Choco shook himself from his momentary madness, and handed her the sword.

"Fascinating," Pomegranate said as she ran her hands along the blade. It was—It was nothing. Dark Choco didn't feel any way about it in particular. "It may be the strongest weapon ever forged on Earthbread. As one would expect from the Master's handiwork, of course. I believe this was her creation."

Dark Choco frowned. "Truly?"

"Who else would be able to create such a weapon? Look at it. Feel the dark magic circulating within.." Pomegranate sighed. "But it chose you. The master may not be with us at the present, but her wills live on, and she chooses you. Why, I would never understand. Though I suppose it's not my place to question her judgement. You'd better wield it for her cause, and wield it well."

 _This was getting him nowhere._ "I already do"

"Do you?"

Dark Choco changed the subject. "Is it sentient?"

Pomegranate seemed taken aback. "The sword?"

"Yes."

It was clear that she questioned _why_ he would suggest such a thing, but he didn't voice it out loud. "Not to my knowledge, no. It can't be. Or at least it shouldn't."

"Powerful forces of nature achieve sentience at one point or another," Dark Choco pointed out. The same could be said about themselves, after all.

"What use would a sentient sword have? Its purpose is to serve as a tool, nothing more." Pomegranate sounded irritated. "Besides, Life Magic is antithesis to the master's power."

"I meant no offense," Dark Choco said. Though the total lack of emotion in his voice couldn't convey any guilt even if he tried. He did not. 

Pomegranate handed him his sword. If she noticed how quick Dark Choco reached out for it, then she chose not to acknowledge it. “You may leave.”

The moment Dark Choco stepped out of her lair, the Strawberry Jam sword started to glow. It was the only thing shining with light—oppressively bright—amidst the darkened pomegranate grove.

 _“Pomegranate Cookie. Her master brought ruin to my?... our honorable house. Our people, abandoned to succumb to the darkness. Had I not passed from this world, perhaps you wouldn’t have descended into madness as well..._ ”

Dark Choco’s hands trembled around the hilt. _Silent!_ he wanted to scream, but he felt that acknowledging it all would be passing a point of no return. It would mean giving reality to what he could _still_ insist was a hallucination. He didn’t want to know. He didn’t want to understand why it hurt. He didn’t want to.. Remember.

So he didn’t. He kept his silent as the sword _wailed_ on, and on for its _princeling_. A pathetic howl of some old, broken things, filled with nothing but regrets from ages past. When its cries finally died down, Dark Choco was surrounded by darkness once again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so princeling is often derogatory but we WILL get into that.... or at least i plan to get into that, we will see if i can pace this fic well enough LMAO


	3. Chapter 3

After Dark Choco had observed the Strawberry Jam sword for a while, he concluded that there was a pattern to its—for the lack of better words—emotional outburst. For most of the time, it remained completely silent. Once it was so quiet, and for so long, it almost convinced Dark Choco that perhaps it  _ was  _ just a sword after all, or at least whatever was wrong with it had corrected itself. Then suddenly something would trigger it into a frenzy of rage or misery. Sometimes, an unnerving combination of both.   


Dark Choco found himself wincing, cringing away from it as if he's been struck every time. It was frustrating. It couldn't do anything to him even if it wanted to; it was just a talking sword. He was the swordmaster who wielded it. Yet here he was, anxious,  _ scared _ , and lost as to how he would defend himself from the one that was supposed to protect him. No. The thing. The weapon. He used it to protect himself, he was supposed to—nevermind.

The outburst only lasted for a while. During this period, it screamed incoherently about a kingdom, a prince, a friend, and other nonsense until it tired itself out. Dark Choco often found himself on guard afterward, uncertain of how to wield it in its current state. He could never be sure of how it'd react during a fight when he needed it most. What if something set it off again? What if its power became as unstable as its mood swing? It was unpredictable, and thus unreliable. The long period of silence that followed was most disturbing, perhaps even more so than the outburst itself.   


Then out of nowhere it would comment on something seemingly random as if nothing ever happened, such as—gods forbid— _the weather._ Dark Choco would then feel.. relieved that his sword was back to being itself again. Finally, he could move onto more important tasks, instead of spending his time paranoid over whether or not his sword would become volatile. Though deep down beneath the surface, he was fuming. He couldn't explain why he was frustrated—it wasn't as if he was going to bring up its most recent emotional outburst. Why would he? What was there to discuss? He didn't expect the sword to address it by itself either. For all he knew, it didn't even remember why it behaved the way it did. Dark Choco should be glad he could sweep the unfortunate incident under the rug and move on. Less hassle that way.

Then it kept happening, again, and again, and again. A pattern—he could see it now. Give him enough time, and Dark Choco would be able to pin down its triggers as well. (He already had the general idea.) It wasn't unpredictable at all when he took a closer look. It wasn't intimidating anymore even. After his careful observation, Dark Choco no longer felt on edge whenever his sword decided to lash out. He just put up with it. It was more bothersome than anything else, and sometimes—concerning. Not that he cared, but it quickly became clear that this was a cry for help. (To who? And for what?)

Typical.

(..Typical of  _ what?) _

This time, the Strawberry Jam sword broke its silence quicker than usual. Dark Choco was on a retrieval mission; the cookies of this village allegedly hid a powerful artifact under its temple. Pomegranate wanted him to find out if the tale was true, and for him to retrieve the artifact for their cause if it was. The cookies were all gone by now, rendered to crumbles. Their village was only a shadow of what it once was. Dark Choco never let his guard down, but he knew there was no threat, no lurking danger, nothing. He was being sent off on a fetch mission like a low-ranking, disposable minion. Great.

Dark Choco sighed. He made his way to where the temple used to be, and found a statue made in the likeness of Pure Vanilla Cookie. This village was not part of the now lost Vanilla kingdom. It was located some distances away from its border, which fell under another lost kingdom's domain. However, they still revered Pure Vanilla Cookie in the past. A ceremonial, symbolic figure of their religion due to his magic, despite not being their official ruler. Other heroic cookies of legends received a similar treatment in one way or another.

As Dark Choco stopped in front of the statue to examine it, the Strawberry Jam sword glowed.

_ "Be well, old friend. May the Moonlight Cookie watch over your eternal slumber, _ " The sword whispered. Its voice took on a more somber, gentler tone. _ "I will see you again when… If I am ever laid to rest." _

Dark Choco had a nagging suspicion of the Strawberry Jam sword's true identity for a long time now (or at least the identity of who it thought itself to be.) The clues were all there, scattered between its regular emotional breakdowns, and mundane remarks about Dark Choco's surroundings. The way it saw the world, the things it claimed to know—Dark Choco wasn't stupid, he could string them all together. He just wasn't certain how much of it could be taken seriously, and what significance would that revelation have to _him._ If any of this were to mean something to Dark Choco, he would have to remember. But memory could only cause you pain.

_ "When the words spread, he insisted upon seeing me. Abandoned his duty. Traveled all the way to the great walls." _

The Strawberry Jam sword sounded exhausted, perhaps because it wasn't fully recovered yet after the most recent meltdown. Though it also sounded  _ old _ , worn out with time, weary. If a sword could age the same way living beings did, then it would be quite old based on the legends alone. It sounded like it.

_ "Had I let him tend to my wound, it would not have left a scar,"  _ The sword sighed. " _ Had I not pushed everyone away… oh, but the walls saved so many. My body, old, sick, weak, ruined—I long for it! If only to hold you in my arms one last time." _

Dark Choco couldn't remember the last time he was held, if ever.   


_ "We are closer now than we have ever been; you are all I've got left in this wretched world. My darling boy." _

Dark Choco proceeded with his mission; he wasn't there for sightseeing. The Strawberry Jam sword whimpered as it was pulled away from the statue, but could not do anything in protest. The more it talked, the more questions it raised. The urge to respond grew stronger within Dark Choco each day. It was a distraction he did not need. The tale turned out to be just that, a tall tale, there was nothing hidden in the village. In a world where most legends rung true, prophecy was as true as fact, and fairytales all sprung from history—it almost felt insulting when one turned out to be made up. He wondered how much of the history surrounding the five rulers was true. Most, if not all of it, had to be speculative fiction.  _ How disappointing. _

Yes, that was the word he was looking for. When you realized the cookie on the tapestry wasn't as powerful as he seemed. When you felt how heavy the head that wore the crown was.  _ Just a miserable old man, stuck in the past, terrified of change. He needed to understand.. no, not with words, it had to be proven to him that he was obsolete! _

Disappointment.   


_ He won? How… gods, since when did he become so weak? But he was so strong. The strongest of all.   
_

Regret.


End file.
